


in blackwater woods

by snowlighters



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, a moment of silence for akaashi who is Super Emo and made this harder than it should have been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24464071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowlighters/pseuds/snowlighters
Summary: at their last match during nationals, akaashi breaks his promise.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 74
Kudos: 369





	in blackwater woods

**Author's Note:**

> title from /that/ poem from mary oliver. yes it still hurts me
> 
> this was supposed to be a random bokuaka drabble that evolved into something a little bigger. it’s the first time i’m writing after 6 years (and the first thing i contribute to the haikyuu fandom), so i’m super rusty and totally sorry. please enjoy if you can ?

**nationals 2013.**

at their last match during nationals, akaashi breaks his promise.

 _he should have known better_ , akaashi mutters to himself as they get out of the gym. he isn’t one of those people to promise or swear under hope - he prefers the stability under the i wish umbrella, doesn’t want to lie and pretend everything will end up well. but volleyball is not an ordinary subject, and akaashi is foolish enough to promise to bokuto they are going to win.

it’s one of the things he wholeheartedly believes; but the promise is broken after the ball touches the ground for the last time, and there’s nothing akaashi can do.

despite everything he holds himself together and blends in with the team; enters the bus to go back, the line of players in eerie silence. when he sits down akaashi shuts his eyes besides bokuto and immediately tries to sleep, tries to run away from it all.

the fact that it’s silent only makes it worse; their buses where always crowded with noise, filled with energy and a lack of limits that used to test him until he almost broke his calm persona. he never even dared to try to close his eyes. but the silence inside is haunting, and all akaashi wants to do is scream in frustration.

he knows they area all thinking the same thing - that this was their last chance and it’s all over; there will never be this moment ever again. and they are right, absolutely - but just because something didn’t happen it doesn’t mean the good things along the way weren’t good or worth it.

he wants to say that to them, to thank the team for everything. but the words feel stuck on his throat. despite knowing everything, he still wishes they had won together as a team. as a family.

the most abnormal thing out of everything is bokuto’s reaction; he sits beside him and is unusually still; somehow sharp. not cold, but not warm either. his hands grip the scratchy fabric on their seats, and it looks as if he is holding himself together from collapsing into a supernova, star-body exhausted from the match.

akaashi wants to tell him all about the good things he will remember; about the things he knows will cheer bokuto up. he wants to tell him _i will miss the way you and komi brought out the absolute worst from each other_ and _i will miss the chicken adoption incident_ and _i will miss telling you to stop stealing fire extinguishers_ , and, more quiet and honest _i will miss you. simple as that._

but he won’t say anything. he won’t say anything because bokuto is finally learning what deep rooted sadness is, and he doesn’t want to take that away from him. it’s probably one of those important lessons volleyball will teach him throughout his life, he thinks, already knowing bokuto will only stop playing when his knees say _you are 95 years old and can’t get up from your bed without a cane_. so he closes his mouth, exhales.

looks out of the window and goes to sleep.

☆

**march 2014.**

akaashi doesn’t remember much from the day when the third years graduate.

theres the empty court in the morning; flowers blooming amidst the cement in the school’s parking lot; that annoying ringing signalling recess. there’s also the smell of expired banana milk from one of the vending machines, the yellow chipped paint from the school walls and the ever present noise from the students, so constant akaashi sometimes forgets they are there at all.

it’s the last day of school. half his team is graduating.

he’s fine with it, he is; it hurts a bit, but it’s not like he isn’t prepared for it, hasn’t seen it coming for months already. 

they all sit outside the gymnasium for the last goodbye. the 10 of them - the 8 in the team and, of course, the managers - have assorted popsicles in their hands, orange and cherry red, pale green and neon blue. it was a good tradition they developed; maybe he can keep that with the first years that will come in a month. maybe he, anahori and onaga can make that something permanent.

when they finish the popsicles and the time to go home approaches, the team takes one last picture with suzumeda’s phone, who promises to text and email them all; they all smile and go their own way. it’s sweet, absent of emotional speeches and perhaps the perfect ending for them as a team.

it leaves akaashi and bokuto alone, both of their buses always a bit behind schedule. they wait a bit, watch the sun paint the trees in the grounds golden orange, talk about what they will do in the weekend; the conversation is easy as it always has been, and when it’s time, they take themselves to the stop amidst the spring wind.

the wait for the bus is filled with bokuto’s nonsense stories, and akaashi is silent the entire conversation. and then he can see his bus approach from the end of the street, and a little bit of fear grabs the tip of his fingers, makes a cage around his heart.

he turns to bokuto and hugs him in silence, taking him by surprise, but he doesn’t sputter that nonsense of staying in touch. his hands are firm and lace his friend’s neck, surprising himself with the force of his own strength. he knows this is it - knows bokuto is already recruited, has a brilliant volleyball future ahead of him, and that takes time and dedication. he doesn’t want that to happen, of course; doesn’t want to loose touch with someone who has been so important to him in so many ways. but he also knows that’s the nature of high school friendships.

they rarely survive.

but akaashi is a hopeful bastard; he can’t help but want to cling to him, because it’s bokuto, after all, and you don’t want to let go of a star if you have held it in the palm of your hands.

so foolishly he makes himself a promise.

if he and bokuto survive the separation - if they are friends in five years - he promises he will tell him. he will say something. he will stop holding into the scribbled volleyball shaped mark his best friend left into his heart, and he will be brave.

they let go, and bokuto looks and smiles at him, as if he knows what akaashi is thinking, as if he knows what he just promised. he looks at him as if to say the timing sucks, yeah, let’s make this a promise. he looks at him and then lifts him of his feet in another hug, something too big and so intense it leaves akaashi breathless. 

the bus arrives. they let go.

when he sits next to the window, akaashi doesn’t look back.

☆

**august 2016**

to his uttermost surprise, they stay in touch.

it’s hard not to, with the way bokuto seems to forget akaashi has responsibilities and keeps spamming him with random messages throughout the day, utter nonsense about training and his new living facilities and teammates.

sometimes he starts to talk about the last movie he has seen on the cinema and how akaashi would like it too, and then he sends some owls and dogs and cats and flowers emojis and akaashi doesn’t know what they are talking about anymore.

all he knows is that once bokuto is happy about something is hard not to notice it, with the way it pours out of him, intense and bright; and bokuto seems so happy about everything lately, seems to give his all to living and breathing and playing, that even akaashi’s apprentice work is starting to be influenced by him - once, for a whole week, he sends the pictures of the sunset from his apartment balcony in the city. there’s an unspoken _you would like it here_ in between the lines. when akaashi answers that he finds it beautiful, it also has an unspoken _i wish i was there too_ , hidden in the spelling, making a hole in his heart. that week, akaashi speed-writes a short story about two lovers who live in different sides of the world, who communicate through feelings and thoughts, skin glowing when they finally connect. it’s so good his boss promotes him to an official position in the studio, and after that it doesn’t take much for him to get recommended and find a job in the city.

it’s not a sudden realisation, but it dawns on akaashi that even so far away, even when they don’t see each other, even when they talk through weird emojis, exchange stupid selfies and have glitched half hour phone calls every week, bokuto inspires him. 

it’s not a sudden realisation. it doesn’t take him by surprise, either; he learnt how to be inspired by others by watching bokuto play volleyball. he learnt how to be a better version of himself by playing by bokuto’s side. how fitting, if not a little amusing, that he gets to the city next to him with a little nudge by bokuto, too.

☆

**february 2017.**

they meet more often than expected.

akaashi works odd hours with his job, eyes almost shutting down from the lack of sleep and hands trembling because of the excess caffeine. half the time they spend together is him asking for mercy from bokuto, asking him to slow down because he can’t keep up, he just pulled two all nighters in a row and is done, can’t chase pigeons or dogs or whatever the hell bokuto wants to do that day.

but bokuto trains tirelessly, too, from mornings till afternoons till noons, fighting to keep his position in the jackals titular team. his hands are blister-covered and his body moves languidly, muscles sore from practice. so while half the time akaashi asks for mercy, the other half bokuto kind of begs for it, begs a little like the little baby he is.

when they were in high school akaashi always felt like bokuto was invincible; with volleyball, he learnt that he was both right and wrong. he learnt bokuto was skin and bone just like him, prone to errors just the same, just not as fated to them. so it feels weird to see bokuto lower his head and smile, ask softly for akaashi to sit down during their walks because he is tired after an intense day of serving.

they are busy and tired but they meet more often than expected; never too busy or too tired for a quick meal round the corner, or for half an hour of catching-up laps in the city, or what akaashi calls miraculous sunday mornings: hours spent sitting on the park bench, feeding birds with pieces of stale bread and 500 won sandwiches bought from the cheap bakery nearby.

those days are akaashi’s favorites; days where their energy levels are evened out, almost the same - almost because, realistically, him in his highest of highs still can’t compete with regular bokuto - days where his ribcage feels a little loose and they don’t need to talk to understand each other.

days where he notices the city - or time, or something that akaashi can’t quite put his fingers on but knows it’s there - has mellowed bokuto out a little; smoothed out the sharp edges. and it’s a little hard at first, to get used to this bokuto, this softer version. the version that takes energy as much as it gives; the one that holds his hand because it’s cold, that smiles without showing teeth, that gives him the gentlest look akaashi has ever received - that makes him wonder. 

but akaashi likes this bokuto; likes all the bokutos that are inside of him, even the ones that go on dates with other people and get a little bit moody when they don’t get enough sleep at night. so in between quick coffee meetings and slow sunday mornings akaashi gladly learns all the differences, falls in love with bokuto all over again, laughs and smiles and secretly wishes for bokuto to learn all the new sides of him too; wishes for him to like the new akaashi too.

☆

**2018.**

akaashi starts to go to bokuto’s games and becomes a regular at the jackals bleachers; all of bokuto’s teammates know him by name, jokingly call him bokuto’s husband, but what’s more surprising is that he strikes an unusual friendship with osamu, who is always selling onigiri close to their matches. 

it doesn’t take much time for him, bokuto and the twins to become friends, the strangest foursome to ever exist. most of the time they spend together is bokuto screaming and atsumu being loudly snarky, with osamu and akaashi also being snarky, but, like, in silence. bokuto’s energy seems to be blown up to full on chaos when he is with atsumu, and akaashi would be worried if their ideas weren’t so stupid. the possibilities for disaster are sort of infinite, but osamu and him keep the new dynamic duo in check.

it reminds akaashi a bit of bokuto’s friendship with kuroo - and how they kind of inspired the worst in each other, while he and kenma just watched in silence from the sidelines. he misses them deeply, but while that one was more like dumb and dumber, this one is good cop and snarky cop, except they aren’t cops so they can - and they will, akaashi learns in the hardest way with two chickens and almost an arrest later - break the law. akaashi is constantly tired, and osamu kind of is too, but now he has someone to help him with the babysitting.

it’s all good and chaotic until hinata joins de team, and then in the truest of fashions all hell breaks loose. their group grows exponentially - through him they reconnect with kenma and through kenma with kuroo, and then akaashi feels tired - the sunday kind of tired, loose limbs after a good swim in the backyard pool, sunkissed skin a little bit too hot - because now he has too many friends to count and keep in check. osamu just laughs from the sidelines, but he feels the physical need to take a nap whenever a random combination of at least 5 of them happen.

it’s chaotic and imperfect; almost too much. but akaashi starts feeling that same feeling he used to have at fukurodani - like he has a home, like all these people are his home. it’s loud and messy but also so wonderful; hard to gather everyone at the same place and time, too - some of them live in different cities and have inflexible jobs, after all - but when they are all together and he looks around, akaashi finds himself thinking that he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

☆

**february 2019.**

akaashi doesn’t know when his life starts going wrong, but it must have been when he decides to mention he got a promotion at work to his friends.

they all congratulate him, mutter their hoorays and oozas, but bokuto is oddly thrilled about it. sure - he gets extra free time and an incredibly flexible schedule, so he’s able to meet everyone more often - but even for bokuto’s standards he is too excited.

he finds it cute until bokuto loudly announces they need to throw a party to celebrate. akaashi closes his eyes, forehead scrunching up, almost like he is praying. he doesn’t have the time or disposition for this.

“no.”

“you didn’t even celebrate your last birthday!” bokuto complains, pouting. “if you were a bit greener i would probably call you the grinch.”

“don’t do it.” 

“i really want to. it can be a late birthday party. an excuse to gather everyone! when was the last time we saw each other? it will be so fun!”

“it will be so fun, akaashi” atsumu interrupts, and akaashi sends him a death glare.

“please don’t talk like you are gonna do it. tell me you won’t do it.”

“you know i can’t lie to you.”

akaashi thinks he knows exactly when his life started going wrong, and that was when he became friends with bokuto.

☆

**march 2019.**

akaashi knows bokuto enough to know that the only thing he is patient about is volleyball. 

so when 10 days pass without him hearing a whisper about the party, akaashi thinks bokuto has forgotten and relaxes. it’s the wrong move, of course, because the last time he relaxed around bokuto he found himself half naked in his rooftop, hair dyed bubblegum pink and cyan blue, and the video almost made into youtube before he stole atsumu’s phone and threw it into the the kitchen sink.

it’s the wrong move; he should absolutely know that when bokuto invites him to have a quiet night of watching movies at his home, because almost nothing involving bokuto is quiet or relaxing. but still he goes because it’s bokuto, and akaashi has the terrible and dangerous habit of indulging him.

he goes to the supermarket and buys a couple of snacks for the night, some cans of soda and a cake that’s on sale; it’s heart shaped and absolutely corny, but akaashi justifies it because it’s bokuto’s favorite flavour - passionfruit - which is almost impossible to find. 

when he arrives at the building and his friend greets him from the door, akaashi can already listen to the noise one floor below. he throws a very heated glance at bokuto, who laughs.

“what?” he grins widely, so happy and bright that it tugs at akaashi’s heartstrings a little. “i told you i would do it.”

he remains silent, but lets a smile escape.

they go up and open the door, and there are approximately twenty people in the living room, a complete and absolute mess. udai is in the corner laughing prettily at something hinata said, and even two of his coworkers whom he had no idea bokuto knew how to contact are there; they wave at him and smile, one of them looking at bokuto and throwing a thumbs up at him. from the corner of his eye he watches kuroo and atsumu pile themselves over someone he can’t recognise - and next to them there is the fish tank which isn’t empty anymore, but rather filled with a radioactive looking green liquid he can’t identify. 

the danger levels in the room are exorbitant.

akaashi already has a headache.

in between greetings he decides to down a shot to relax, just relax, because he knows the night will be long and torturous, but soon it evolves into something more. 

somehow he gets sucked into the middle of a scavenger hunt involving a pet lizard, two blue succulents and animal shaped nuggets, and the penalty for loosing is either being body slammed by bokuto or drink 3 shots of shochu. akaashi hates the prospect of getting turned on in front of so many people, so he drinks everything like a champ. 

but the joke is on him because he ends up embarrassing himself regarding bokuto anyway, and all of his friends are having fun at his expense. very, very rarely akaashi drinks - even less frequently than his athlete friends, who need to take care of their bodies - because he tends to drop a bit of his guarded act, tongue getting loose and conversations more candid. it’s still the beginning of the night and he has hugged kuroo once, let slip that he loves osamu twice and talked to the fish tank three times.

“you know.” he begins narrating to the tank and kuroo, who is standing by his side. his friend carries a loose smirk on his lips and a cellphone hangs dangerously high on his hand. he might be recording akaashi. “me and bokuto should adopt a cat. not a fish.” he looks at the tank, deep in thought. “ _together_.”

“is that so?” kuroo answers, faking disinterest. that only spurs him more.

“yes. and then we can officially marry each other. he’s going to look really good in a suit.” akaashi stops and looks around; finds bokuto in the corner of the living room, doing something really weird with hinata and a tired kenma. ”bokuto, dear, come here.”

kenma’s eyebrows shoot up. kuroo smirk turns into a full blown grin.

“yes?” bokuto smiles, poor him. he puts one of his arms over akaashi’s shoulders, and akaashi forgets what he was about to say.

“i forgot what i was about to say. your arms distracted me.” 

bokuto blushes. kuroo collapses from laughing.

“let’s all pour one out for our friend akaashi.” he manages to say in between fists of laughter, beer in the hand he isn’t holding his phone. “he is out here doing his best.”

☆

**the morning after, 2019.**

akaashi wakes to the pang of a terrible headache.

his body feels warm, almost too warm; there’s a little bit of drool on his pillow, which, gross. but also there’s the smell of something nice, something nice and so familiar akaashi just can’t quite point his finger on. 

with belated awareness he realises there’s an arm thrown over his body. and akaashi - akaashi freezes. a volleyball player’s arm. he knows that arm. 

he opens his eyes and realizes he is in bokuto’s apartment, tangled with bokuto’s body, under bokuto’s arm. that’s bokuto’s ceiling. and the smell of something nice and familiar is bokuto.

in sheer panic, akaashi looks down at his body. his clothes are still on.

memories from the night before come in fragments - but still complete enough for him to want to jump of a cliff. his face does that thing it does when he is displeased - he knows he made a fool of himself; the cut scenes are there, ingrained in his brain: the bullshit scavenger hunt game, him talking to the fish tank, cutting the 2 layered cake into a heart shaped mess, singing karaoke with atsumu. feeling bokuto’s arms. oh god. him asking bokuto to sleep with him. atsumu in fits of laughter. bokuto brightly agreeing. 

he was going to kill osamu. and kuroo. and whoever was responsible for this mess.

it’s like his body enters the fight or flight mode, but aside from this crumbling anxiety and paralysing fear, it’s totally the flight form. he tries to disentangle from bokuto, but it’s hard when he is a human shaped octopus practiced in the art of cuddling. akaashi is good at running away, though, has too much practice from all those one night stands; so he detaches himself and grabs a pair of clean clothes from the clean clothes chair, goes straight to the bathroom, needing to take a shower and have some time to _think_.

he turns the water on, and call the logic part of his brain to the stage. if bokuto was uncomfortable with him he wouldn’t have slept - literally slept - in the same bed after everything, so at least he is in the clear in that regard. but that doesn’t mean anything, in the grand context of things; maybe bokuto was also drunk and didn’t realize akaashi was being more friendly than he should. maybe he realised but thought it was endearing. maybe he was about to friendship break up with him that morning. maybe maybe maybe.

a little voice in his head tells him to stop overthinking. tells him to own up and go for it. 

he takes his time in the shower; lets the water flow and wash away any regrets, prepares himself to the moment he faces bokuto. when he gets out of the bathroom - clear headed and with his teeth brushed, courtesy of the spare toothbrush he has on the apartment - akaashi hears noise and follows it, preparing himself for the inevitable.

“i’m making breakfast. do you want some eggs and rice?” bokuto’s voice calls from the kitchen, and akaashi doesn’t ask him how he knows he is coming; it’s old news that they are attuned to each other like that.

“no i - i’m fine.”

“you need to eat after yesterday. take care of your body! otherwise you won’t be able to work.” 

akaashi huffs. he can’t believe bokuto, of all people, is the one lecturing him.

“ugh” he sits on the chair, lowers his head and groans again. this sucks. he hates drinking. “this sucks. i hate drinking.”

“i love that you are being a baby about it. but it’s fine. it’s been a while since i’ve seen you have this much fun.“ he sounds… amused. akaashi hates it. maybe if he could pretend he is dead forever he could get out of the situation. “and i love that i get to parent you for once. eat up -“ he sets a small bowl of rice and ikura. his voice tone changes, just slightly. “and after that, let’s talk.”

his smile is angelic. akaashi is convinced he is the devil.

he goes slow, because he knows bokuto is impatient and akaashi wants to torture him. in the end, it’s not like it works - bokuto looks amused, and akaashi feels like a little kid, being prissy just for the sake of being prissy. he darts his tongue out, makes a face, ignores bokuto’s annoying smile. takes the dishes to the sink, takes his time washing the tableware.

takes a deep breath and turns around.

bokuto looks at him from the kitchen counter, open and bright, and akaashi feels like he might explode. he doesn’t know whats the name of the feeling, but there it is. is it melancholia? is it nostalgia? the feeling that he is loosing something precious to him that he has never had, but that he misses with all his might. he thinks how eight years is nothing yet so much time. when he was fifteen he used to toss to bokuto for hours, and bokuto would thank him with nothing but a blinding smile. when he was sixteen they would sometimes have sleepovers, and when bokuto thought akaashi was dreaming, he whispered _thank you for being my friend, akaashi_ , and the honesty would break him to pieces. he never said that back, afraid of the guilt he carried with himself. always wishing for more. for so long he was at war with his heart. it’s been six years since his realisation that it’s more than a crush; five years since his promise leaving school grounds; two years since they met again in osaka; and akaashi can’t help but think he can’t do this anymore.

akaashi breathes in, breathes out. he doesn’t know how after all these years, his biggest fear is still bokuto.

“i’m sorry. about last night. i didn’t want any of that to happen.” akaashi begins, and bokuto frowns. “i didn’t plan for it to go like this, i swear - ”

“so you don’t mean it.” bokuto rolls up his sleeves, fidgeting fingers everywhere. he takes a sip of water from the glass he has in hands. his shoulders are tense. “tell me you didn’t mean it, akaashi, and i will leave it to rest.”

“seven years” he says, hurt tinging his voice. “seven years that we have known each other, six that i’ve been in love with you. bokuto, i - of course i mean it.”

“it’s been a while, isn’t it?” he asks, something akin to wonder tinging his voice. “seven years. seven years that we have known each other.”

there’s silence. akaashi is staring at him. he knows bokuto isn’t finished.

“i want things to be different too, you know. i think i made that clear - god, akaashi. i’ve hinted so many times. i’ve asked you on dates. i presented you to my whole team as my husband. i’ve learn so many things from playing volleyball, and i am yet to learn all of you.”

it’s a confession. it’s a love confession, akaashi thinks. it’s very easy to categorize bokuto as a simpleton - bright smiles, endless energy, never ending hurricane of joy - but akaashi hates when other people think of him as that, because underneath it all there is an untapped wisdom, a part of him that whisper things that make akaashi breathless. 

“i thought they were just jokes.“ bokuto huffs indignantly.

“of course they weren’t. i’ve only been serious about two things in my life, akaashi.” he pauses. “volleyball and you.”

and then he grabs akaashi’s hands, pulls him in. closes the distance between them.

kisses him breathless. 

akaashi’s hands are timid just like the rest of his body, still shy after a night of sleeping besides his best friend - but he reaches for bokuto’s hair, reaches for that spot behind his neck that melts him. bokuto fires back, holding akaashi’s waist and laugh-licks into his mouth, and it’s so intense it sends shivers down his entire body, arms becoming skin-textured braille.

his headache is gone.

☆

after 5 years, akaashi keeps his promise.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a review if you liked it! my twitter is the same as my ao3 handle, @snowlighters
> 
> i just recently got into haikyuu (because of quarantine) and i don’t have any friends in the fandom, so if you feel like it say hi to me ? i’m mostly super chill.


End file.
